


Come Home

by aroseintheimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean's Birthday, Destiel - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Texting, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroseintheimpala/pseuds/aroseintheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is spending his birthday in a crappy motel room while Crowley searches for the first blade. Right after midnight, he gets a text that changes things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Home

Dean stared at the rough, white ceiling. He was still in the same dingy motel room where he had spent the last two nights since Crowley left to go find the blade. His blade now, he supposed. Tired of searching for imaginary patterns in the bumpy stucco ceiling, he rolled over onto his side facing the wooden nightstand next to his bed. There was a half empty bottle of whiskey still sitting there that he had abandoned earlier in his attempt to get some sleep. It was by no means the first one he had opened during his stay at his new temporary home. He stared at it absentmindedly for an hour or five minutes or maybe all night. It all felt the same to him at that point. His mind only snapped to attention at the buzzing noise and bright light emanating from his cell phone a few centimeters to the left. He scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion and looked at the alarm clock. The bright green letters told him it was 12:03 AM. Crowley would probably just pop right in unannounced if he had news so who could possibly be texting him at this hour? More out of boredom than anything else, he picked up the phone and turned the screen around so that he could read it. 

He immediately regretted that decision.

Unable to stop himself even though he knew he really, really should, he slid his thumb across the screen and opened the text. It was from Cas.

“I didn’t know if I should contact you or not. Sam told me I shouldn’t because you would have called us if you wanted to talk.”

Dean snorted at that. It seemed that Sam was being pissy like he always was when Dean did something like this. Still, he took a moment to consider that Sam might be right. Maybe he should just delete the message before he could read anymore of it and get sucked back into his former life. He pressed the back of the phone into his forehead and sighed with frustration. He knew the words he had already read would haunt him until he had turned them over and over in his head and deciphered the meaning of each and every syllable. He might as well just finish reading the text before deleting it.

“I still wanted to tell you happy birthday though because it seemed wrong not to. Birthdays are important to humans, right? Anyway, happy birthday, Dean. Come home soon. We need you here.”

Dean stared at the words until his vision began to blur. I need you here.

It reminded him immediately of the words he had prayed in his desperation in the hospital chapel while Sam was dying. They seemed so out of character coming from Cas, his socially awkward friend who didn’t even know how to use a prepaid cell phone 4 years ago. Then again, there was a lot that had changed during his time as a human. The time when Dean had forced him away.

He sat the cell phone back down on the nightstand and exchanged it for the bottle of whiskey. He didn’t trust himself to reply, but he wasn’t quite ready to erase the words either. They were words he didn’t deserve. He took a long drink from the bottle and winced as it burned his throat. Words he definitely shouldn’t encourage. Cas and Sam didn’t need him. Even if they did need him, they shouldn’t. Sam was right. Cas shouldn’t have messaged him. He was wrong too, though. Dean wouldn’t call if he wanted to talk. Dean would drink if he wanted to talk. He tipped the bottle back again.

The phone buzzed against the table. 

Tentatively, he picked it up and saw that the message wasn’t from Cas this time. It was from Sam. It simply read, “Happy birthday.”

Dean stared at it for an eternity. Finally, he unlocked the screen and began typing.

“Call me when you have news, and I’ll meet you. I’m going home.”

He sent the text to Crowley, stuffed the phone in his pocket, and grabbed the still-packed duffel sitting at the foot of his bed. He didn’t spare the room a single glance over his shoulder before getting in the impala and driving straight towards Lebanon.


End file.
